Page 25 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

He finished by making his bed and removing his jersey from the closet. He intended to put it on, but stopped. Smiling, Jett laid it neatly on his bed as a gift for Harrison to find once he was gone.

He lugged his suitcase and carry-on to the front door, trying to be quiet in case Harrison had chosen to hide in his room and sleep away their goodbye.

That wasn’t the case because he found Harrison waiting for him on the porch, awake and disgruntled.

“You got everything?” Harrison asked, breaking their hour-long comfortable silence.

“Everything I want to bring, yeah,” said Jett. “Christmas is just around the corner, so I’ll be back to visit this island of isolation then.”

“Jett, it’s summer. Christmas is nowhere close.”

Jett smiled at Harrison until he rolled his eyes and took his suitcase from him, carrying it down the stairs to get away from him.

Jett bounded after him, grinning wide enough to make his cheeks ache. “Oh, come on,” he said, poking his back. “Hockey always makes time pass faster. It’ll be Christmas before you know it.”

“Uh-huh.” Harrison, who had his car keys, unlocked his vehicle and started wrestling the bag into the back.

“I’ll bring you to meet my dad,” said Jett. “And we can eat Chinese food and watch Christmas movies together. Wait until you hear his commentary—fucking comedy gold.”

Harrison turned and pulled the carry-on off his shoulder, throwing that in roughly before he closed the door and spun to face Jett.

“I’ll be back before you know—”

Harrison threw his arms around him, hugging him so tight that Jett’s breath left him in a whoosh .

“Get in the car, please ,” said Harrison. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.”

Jett fell quiet. It was hard for him to comprehend that he would be driving away from Harrison and leaving him behind.

“Call me as soon as your plane lands,” said Harrison. “I want to know you’re safe. ”

Jett tried to put space between them so he could look into his eyes, but Harrison refused to budge.

“I’ll call you every day,” Jett promised. “And you’ll call me whenever you need me, right?”

Harrison’s chin rubbed over the top of his head while he nodded.

That was all Jett needed. He stepped back with purpose, and Harrison reluctantly let him go. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat longer, and Jett felt it—the impossible weight of a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say.

So, without another word spoken between them, he took his keys from Harrison and got into the car. He turned the engine over and knocked his rearview mirror out of position, refusing himself the chance of having to watch Harrison standing alone while he drove away.

He put the car in drive and hit the gas, flooring it down the driveway so fast that he knew Harrison would send him an angry text later about digging ruts into his dirt road. Jett didn’t care; he needed to get away quickly, or he wouldn’t leave at all.

He had no stuff left at his dad’s place, so he put his brain on autopilot as he drove to the airport.

This goodbye wasn’t forever. He could still visit Harrison when he had a few days off, even though the travelling would be exhausting. And if he was brave, maybe he could invite Harrison to a home game.

It wasn’t like they were separated by space and time. It wasn’t like phones didn’t exist, and he could call Harrison whenever. It would suck, but he could still build their…friendship, and possible other thing by long distance.

But it didn’t make the ache for Harrison to be physically there with him hurt any less.

And it wasn’t until he was at the airport with his car parked, bags checked in, and seat empty beside him that he realized he had been holding onto hope. Some stupid part of him had thought maybe—just maybe, Harrison would follow him to the airport, but the seat remained empty.

Jett kept his eyes on the window, staring at the world outside. His mind was jumbled as the plane hit the runway and took off into the night.

And still, the seat next to him sat empty.

He dissociated from his body for the rest of the trip.

He was barely a person as he sat silently, not reacting to anything around him.

He was numb during the changeover in the next city.

Hell—he didn’t even know what city he was in as he boarded the plane and sat in his new window seat, ignoring the empty spot beside him.

When he landed in Saskatchewan, he was still running on autopilot as he got into an Uber and drove to the hotel his team was staying at for training camp. He got his room key from the desk and walked solemnly to his final destination, not feeling grounded in his bones.

The door opened, and he nearly smacked into Ryan Bracken, captain of the Toronto Sunbursts, and Jett’s roommate.

Ryan’s hands settled on his shoulders, holding Jett steady when he was jolted back into reality. His green eyes were wide as he looked at Jett’s dishevelled appearance, the worry obvious on his face.

“Jett, you okay?”

Jett sucked in a breath and slowly let it out.

“Fraser, come on—you look like shit. What’s wrong?”

Jett swallowed and winced. His throat was so dry he felt like he was swallowing glass.

“He—” Jett paused and took another breath, letting his head hang low with embarrassment.

Fuck, he was so overreacting.

“He didn’t follow me,” was all Jett could get out.

And then he shut the door behind him, slid slowly to the floor and cried .